The Telescopes have spent a lengthy career on the peripheries of cultdom. It’s taken them some 30 years (during which time they’ve accumulated a list of members and former members that almost rivals The Fall) to produce ten albums. The last decade has, perversely, been their most prolific, and has seen Stephen Lawrie and cohorts work deep into the seam of psychedelic drone which is their distinctive territory.

‘Stone Tape’ is dark, murky, brooding, droney, semi-ambient. It feels remarkably brief, containing just six tracks and clocking in at a fraction over thirty minutes, but its soporific atmosphere means it’s probably about right. Sonically, every note, every sound, is draped in a thick haze which not only blurs the edges but renders the shapes indistinct. It’s this soft-focus, fuzzy-edged tonality and the vibe of bleary sedation which makes this such an immersive experience.

Hypnotic rhythms snake through the eastern-tinged drone of the opener, ‘Become the Sun’, and set the scene for a drifting, hallucinogenic mirage of an album. On ‘Everything Must Be’, soft piano rings through the fog, the mumbled vocals almost lost in an obfuscating blur.

‘Stone Tape’ is like a drug: it has a cumulative effect, building over its duration. The tracks melt into one another, resinously coagulating into a dense sonic viscosity that envelop and immerse the listener. Sit back and close your eyes.